


Aftermath

by Unforth



Series: Prompt Ficlets: Supernatural [32]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub, Getting Together, Implied Dean/others, Inadequate Aftercare, M/M, Pining, Sub Dean, Subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 05:30:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15722952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Ficlet written to the prompt: Dean has taken part in a bdsm scene as a sub the other night, but he and Sam had to leave town quickly. Because there was no opportunity for proper aftercare Dean experiences subdrop to the point where he can't hide it from Sam anymore. Sam calls in Cas, because he thinks he could help.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HikariYumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HikariYumi/gifts).



> There is zero justification for how much everyone in this fic knows about BDSM.  
> Also, dear everyone in Wyoming: I'm sorry.

“What is  _ with _ you today, dude?” Sam asked, incredulous.

_ Only that I’m useless, filthy, gross, inadequate-- _

“Nothing,” Dean muttered. “I’m fine.” They had a fucking case to work, and there were more important things to worry about than Dean’s self-inflicted useless bullshit.

If he’d behaved better, he wouldn’t be in pain.

If he’d served as he should have, he wouldn’t have been punished.

If he wasn’t selfish garbage, he wouldn’t engage in his sick-ass sexual perversions when he was  _ supposed _ to be helping Sam research the history of this ghost or whatever the hell they were hunting.

Fuck, he couldn’t even  _ remember _ what they were hunting.

“So not fine.”

Sam was standing in front of him.

Sam rolled his eyes.

Grimacing, Dean pushed him away to get a better look at the house they were investigating. “Quit being such a bitch--”  _...such a naughty little bitch… _ “--and just…”

What the fuck had he been saying?

His stomach twisted.

“Quit the tough guy act,” said Sam, grabbing his arm and tugging him toward the Impala. “I’m not buying it. We’re going back to the hotel room and you’re resting.”

“I ain’t  _ sick _ , dumbass, I--”

“You’re dropping.”

Dean froze so suddenly that Sam’s grip dislodged and he stumbled forward. “What?”

“Dude, how stupid do you think I am?” Sam asked.

“You really want me to answer that?”

“I know you’re into BDSM. I know you’re a sub. I know you scene sometimes when you get stressed. With all the fucked up shit we’ve been through it’d be fricken bizarre if we  _ didn’t  _ have a few kinks. And it’s not rocket science to put together - you did a scene two nights ago before we left Fresno, you came back limping and, judging by the bandages in the bathroom garbage, bleeding...and now you’ve got the miseries and you can’t concentrate. Subdrop. Duh.”

Objections, defenses, complaints, retorts, sprang to Dean’s mind. He opened his mouth, and...

_...such a stupid fuck up, couldn’t even fool my brother… _

_ Now Sam knows exactly how disgusting and pathetic I am. _

...and he closed it again.

“Lemme get you help,” Sam offered, and even in the depths of his self-disgust, Dean had to acknowledge, Sam sounded...kind.

Great, Sam pitied Dean.

Could his day  _ get  _ any worse?

He nodded acceptance to Sam’s outstretched hand, and followed his brother back to the car.

He didn’t deserve help.

But maybe he needed it anyway.

* * *

“You have got to be kidding me,” snarled Dean.

Had he really thought not an hour ago that his day couldn’t get worse?

Castiel stood in the hotel room’s doorway, slump-shouldered in his trenchcoat, expression unreadable.

His day could get so. much. fucking. worse.

“This is not a joke,” Cas replied, shaking his head. “Sam has asked for my aid in taking care of you, and of course I am happy to do so.”

_ I want this too much. _

“Un uh, no way, absolutely not, under no circumstances.”

_ I have no right to this whatsoever. _

_ I mustn’t. _

Cas didn’t reply.

He...stared.

And stood, unmoving, blocking the only exit from the room.

Fucking angel son of a bitch.

“Please don’t think of my father in those terms.”

“Stay out of my fricken  _ head _ , Cas.”

“Of course - I’m sorry to intrude - that thought was...very loud.”

At least Sam had fucked off to another motel room.

Which meant Sam had arranged a second motel room for himself with the expectation that Cas and Dean would do...something.

Which meant Sam had planned all this shit.

Why couldn’t they just leave him alone already?

That’s all his garbage ass deserved anyway.

Cas was still staring at him.

“Wanna beer?” Dean muttered, disgruntled. He rolled off the bed onto his feet and nearly collapsed as pain wracked his whipped back. With a soft flap of wings, Cas was at his side, catching him, supporting him, easing him down to sit on the edge of the bed.

Anger and frustration flashed red through Dean’s sight, but he resisted the urge to shove Cas away. With Dean’s uselessness, he’d probably manage to fucking hurt himself in the effort and end up needing even more help.

“No, thank you,” Cas replied, stepping back. “I’d be happy to procure you a beverage, if you like - but not beer. I don’t think alcohol would be beneficial in your current state.”

“Didn’t ask your bullshit opinion,” said Dean bitterly. “And our current state is fuckin’ Wyoming and trust me no one lives in Wyoming without being sloshed off their ass 24/7. It’s  _ Wyoming _ .”

“Dean--”

“Just go away, Cas. I don’t need your help, and I don’t want it.”

Cas didn’t answer.

He just. fucking. Stared.

His brow was scrunched with concern, his eyes narrowed, his lips compressed in a thin, neutral line. 

“Go away!”

Cas didn’t move.

He should fricken  _ leave _ .

And he stared.

But Dean...Dean didn’t want to be alone.

And he worried.

Dean  _ should  _ be alone.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, flopping down and rolling to face the opposite wall. “Stay if you want.”

“May I touch you?” asked Cas. 

Dean shrugged. Fuck, doing that hurt. Why the hell would Cas want to touch him? He was disgusting.

“Yes or no, Dean?”

“Go for it,” Dean muttered.

“Thank you.” Hell, Cas sounded sincerely, truly  _ grateful _ . “My intentions are to remove your garments, assess your injuries, and treat them. I’ve arranged for delivery of a nutritious, diversified meal--”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“--of Beef with Broccoli from the nearby Chinese delivery place. Once you’re bandaged and you’ve eaten, we can discuss next steps.”

Dean didn’t bother objecting. Cas was a goddamn force of nature, he’d have more luck arguing with a wall.

With gentle touches, Cas did exactly as he said he would, narrating his actions as he did - “I’m unbuttoning your pants next - I’m untying your shoes - I’m removing your belt.” 

It was...bizarrely erotic.

Which made Dean feel, impossibly, even worse.

Cas wasn’t and had never been interested in him.

“That’s not true.” 

For once, Cas wasn’t staring at his face, instead focused on shimmying Dean’s jeans down his legs. Dean stared down the length of the bed, his body bared save for his boxer trunks, aghast.

Cas glanced up at him through his eyelashes, focused once more on the jeans.

“You...didn’t say that aloud, did you.”

“Fuck no,” snapped Dean.

“I’m sorry,” Cas sighed, pulling his jeans over his feet. Cool air brushed through the hairs on Dean’s legs, the ghost of Cas’ departed touch. Thank God he was lying on his stomach and his erection was smashed against the bed. “Dean, whenever we start to grow close, you push me away. That’s been your choice, and is your right, so I’ve given you space, but if I gave you the impression that I was uninterested, then perhaps I gave you...to much space. I care deeply for you.”

There were so many replies competing in Dean’s mind, so many things he wanted to say, so many retorts and insults and incredulous exclamations, but all that came out was, “ _ how _ ?!”

Cas leaned back, a sweet half-smile brightening his face. Dean’s heart ached. 

“Dean, you’re…” Cas grimaced, searching for words. “...remarkable.” A remarkable failure. “Brilliant.” At screwing up. “Dedicated.” To self-gratification. “Beautiful, of course.” That was the limit. That Cas could look at the bloody ruins of his back and think him beautiful. He opened his mouth to shout a rebuttal, but a finger brushed over his back, shivering through him, and despite his objections Dean went limp and liquid-warm against the bed. “And a submissive…”

“The hell you know about BDSM?” asked Dean.

“A great deal,” said Cas. “I find voluntary consensual power exchange intriguing, and made...something of a study of it.”

“You’re full of it.”

“I’m not.” Cas’ hands ran up Dean’s sides, spread over his back, smearing something cool and soothing over Dean’s injuries. “May I show you?”

“But…”

“Only with your permission,” Cas added kindly.

Cas...Cas could be his dom. No more strangers in bars. No more douche bags who ignored his few explicit limits. No more jackasses who took him apart and didn’t bother putting him back together. No more recovering alone.

And he’d be with  _ Cas _ .

Fuck, he’d never had  _ hallucinations _ as part of his post-scene sickness garbage before.

“Please, Dean, allow me to take care of you.”

If it was a hallucination, hopefully it’d never fricken end.

“Yes...sir.”

Cas leaned forward, weight hot over Dean’s back, his smile evident against the skin of Dean’s neck.

“Good boy.”

A shiver trailed through Dean, heated him through, and the condemnation rattling through his brain quieted.

Cas would take such good care of him.

Maybe he owed Sam an apology.

“My good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr at [unforth-ninawaters](http://unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com) or on pillowfort.io at [unforth](https://pillowfort.io/unforth).


End file.
